Sometimes I feel like I'm becoming a mad priest, hammering my fists on the locked temple door.
"The people are suffering!" I shout. But the door remains barred. The sane priests hide from me.
Insecurity and anxiety, and doubt is making us turn into the very thing we feared, and our ancestors fought against. I don't know how to mend this. I don't know how to help the people. So, I'm just going to continue to pound my fists on the locked door of the temple until something happens. I've broken through doors before.
No comments:
Post a Comment